


el miedo en el alma

by Lire_Casander



Series: gotas en un laberinto [5]
Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Coda for S01E08, M/M, Mentions of Injuries, Mentions of a Coma, Mentions of gunshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: it feels different, when the one he loves is the one getting injured
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Series: gotas en un laberinto [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112216
Comments: 16
Kudos: 78
Collections: Carlos Reyes Week 2021





	el miedo en el alma

**Author's Note:**

> beta’ed by [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly). any remaining mistakes are my own
> 
> title from _a quien quiera escuchar_ by maldita nerea. it roughly translates into _the fear in the soul_
> 
> written for [carlos reyes week 2021](https://carlosreyesweek.tumblr.com/post/631367369198092288/announcing-carlos-reyes-week), **_day #5: “just hold on” + hurt/comfort + favorite emergency call_**

Carlos has always believed that the physical wounds are the ones that hurt the most. And as such, heʼs always tried to remain unfazed in the face of peril, enduring injuries when they came — rolling with a gun aimed at his body or with a sprained ankle after a particularly nasty chase. In the end, he’d always been the one ending up on the hospital bed or visiting Michelle’s quarters at the fire station.

It feels different, now.

He’d heard the gunshot. It was highly improbable for his ears not to be trained to that sound, at least in his line of job. Even through the thick walls of the house — even though he was standing outside of the building helping a man reunite with his wife — Carlos was capable of hearing the piercing sound that shred the air already heavy with guilt. His partner had looked up from the car hood across the street; Carlos had followed her gaze with his own. A scream, dulled by the distance, had reached his ears, faintly. 

They hadn’t realized there was an active shooter situation inside the house. They’d thought it was simply a disoriented man and a stressed family; they’d thought the police intervention would end the moment Michelle’s team had gone up following a call from the same building informing them about a cardiac event inside. Carlos had sincerely thought it would be it.

He would have never thought he’d be watching as the firefighters took one of their own out on a gurney, in a rushed attempt to keep him alive long enough for the doctors at the nearest hospital to do their job. He would have never thought he’d see Michelle losing her cool and Captain Strand completely devastated as they took TK outside while Nancy kept performing CPR and Tim held the oxygen bag and Judd pushed the gurney, the rest of their team divided between calming a screaming child and pushing a different gurney with an older man on top of it. He would have never thought he’d be witness to the man he’s hopelessly in love with coding before even reaching the ambulance.

And now, now that he’s staring up at the hospital where Michelle has told him they’ve taken TK, Carlos doesn’t know whether or not he should enter. He hasn’t even changed from his uniform to his civil clothes — he’s just fled the precinct as soon as his shift ended, not even sparing a glance at his partner or his Chief as he walked away. He wouldn’t have been able to bear their pitiful glances. But the bravery that’s fueled him to drive here is slowly leaving him with a gaping hole in his soul and the sheer knowledge that he’s not needed inside.

“You’re going to grow roots if you keep standing there, you know,” he hears at his back. He doesn’t have to turn to recognize Marjan’s Floridian accent. “And we wouldn’t want that.”

“I, uh—”

“I’ve brought coffee,” she says, walking around him until she’s standing in his line of vision with a paper tray full of coffee paper cups. “From the shop around the corner. The shit they pass as coffee in this hospital is undrinkable.” She stares at him curiously. “Are you going to get inside, visit TK?”

“I—I still don’t know,” Carlos replies truthfully. “Been trying to decide if I should be visiting.”

Marjan balances the tray as she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. “Well, I can’t tell you what to do, Reyes,” she says with a soft voice that’s nothing like her usual snickering. “But I know you two are close. I’ve seen how he looks at you and how you look at him at calls,” she is quick to explain when he frowns at her. “You’re not subtle either, Officer Reyes.”

He simply stares at her.

“I think TK would love to have you there when he wakes up, you know? Have a familiar face he doesn’t work with on a daily basis,” Marjan smiles at him, but there’s sadness in her eyes. Carlos wishes he could say something comforting, but he hasn’t interacted much with Marjan before — and he’s feeling mostly scared of her right now, which is astounding since he’s a police officer who shouldn’t be scared of firefighters. But she _is_ scary. “I’m getting in before the coffee gets cold. You coming?”

“I think I’ll stay here a while longer,” Carlos finds himself saying.

“That’s fair,” Marjan retaliates. The tray with paper cups hasn’t even budged. “Just know, one of these has your name on it, should you decide to join us upstairs. Fourth floor,” she says with a wink before disappearing behind the glass doors leading inside of the hospital.

Carlos doesn’t find the strength in himself to follow her for the longest time. He just stands outside, as the night grows cold around him, thinking about how he isn’t sure of anything anymore.

They aren’t acquaintances, they aren’t friends, and they’re definitely _not_ boyfriends. That hasn’t stopped Carlos from developing strong feelings that he doesn’t know how to get rid of — he isn’t even sure he _wants_ to get rid of them anyway.

Carlos would do anything to have the right to hold TK through this and comfort him when he wakes up disoriented and with a hole in his chest. _If_ he wakes up.

_He has to_ , he chides himself. _TK needs to wake up. I can’t function without him_.

And isn’t that an eye-opening revelation.

It’s one thing to be the one getting injured, given the career he chose for himself — and it’s a whole, different one to see the love of his life falling down in front of his eyes. Carlos knows he won’t be able to survive if TK doesn’t pull through; but to be sure about TK’s health, Carlos should step into the hospital and try to get some information at least. Even if he isn’t family — even if he isn’t a significant other — Carlos cares deeply about TK. And he knows TK cares about him; he’s just had a harder time than most, what with his nuclear bad break-up back in New York and his dabbling with drugs, but Carlos loves him in spite of all that.

Carlos loves TK _because_ of all that.

He can’t allow a bullet to deprive him of the best thing to have ever happened to him.

Carlos finds himself moving before his brain can catch up with his body, walking through the entrance doors and beelining for the elevator. He pushes the correct button and steps outside at the correct floor, taking in the scene before him.

Michelle is nowhere to be seen. Marjan and Paul are standing up, neither of them having coffee. Mateo is sitting down along with Tim and Nancy, the three of them sipping absent-mindedly from their cups. Judd is across them, hands in fists as if praying. Neither lifts an eyebrow at him as Carlos makes his way to the room.

The glass door is open, and Captain Owen Strand is caressing TK’s face and talking in hushed tones to his sleeping form. Carlos bites down on his lower lip, willing to keep his tears at bay as he shuffles, unable to decide what’s better — slowly retreating away from this room or barrelling inside. He knows what his heart wants, what his heart _needs_. He doesn’t think he’s brave enough to ask for it, anyway.

The decision is made for him the moment Captain Strand looks up and sees him standing awkwardly on the threshold.

“Would you like a moment with him?” he asks.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he almost stammers, not an ounce of strength left in his body as he looks onward to the figure on the bed. 

“I think he’d appreciate it. God knows I would.”

And so Carlos sits down, one lone tear sliding down his cheek, whispering, “just hold on, please,” and he lies his wounded soul open.


End file.
